


Wicked, Wanton, and Wild

by Snapes_Godess



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-07-27 15:57:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20048704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snapes_Godess/pseuds/Snapes_Godess
Summary: Inspired by the song "Not My Mama's Broken Heart" by Miranda Lambert.  There is no one way to heal when things fall apart. Healing is as unique as the person feeling it. Hermione Granger isn't interested in hearing what Harry Potter thinks about how she's handling her broken heart."One way to get over a wizard is to get under another," is her take on it and she knows just the wizard!





	Wicked, Wanton, and Wild

Wicked, Wanton and Wild  
By Snapes_Goddess

*Disclaimer: I do not own anything relating to the Harry Potter fandom. No money is made from the sharing of this fic.  
** This oneshot was inspired by the song “ Mama’s Broken Heart” by Miranda Lambert—Lyrics below.  
"Mama's Broken Heart"

I cut my bangs with some rusty kitchen scissors  
I screamed his name ‘til the neighbors called the cops  
I numbed the pain at the expense of my liver  
Don’t know what I did next, all I know I couldn’t stop

Word got around to the barflies and the baptists  
My mama’s phone started ringin’ off the hook  
I can hear her now sayin’ she ain’t gonna have it  
Don’t matter how you feel, it only matters how you look

Go and fix your make up, girl, it’s just a break up  
Run and hide your crazy and start actin’ like a lady  
'Cause I raised you better, gotta keep it together  
Even when you fall apart  
But this ain’t my mama’s broken heart

Wish I could be just a little less dramatic  
Like a Kennedy when Camelot went down in flames  
Leave it to me to be holdin’ the matches  
When the fire trucks show up and there’s nobody else to blame

Can’t get revenge and keep a spotless reputation  
Sometimes revenge is a choice you gotta make  
My mama came from a softer generation  
Where you get a grip and bite your lip just to save a little face

Go and fix your make up, girl, it’s just a break up  
Run and hide your crazy and start actin’ like a lady  
'Cause I raised you better, gotta keep it together  
Even when you fall apart  
But this ain’t my mama’s broken heart

Powder your nose, paint your toes  
Line your lips and keep 'em closed  
Cross your legs, dot your eyes  
And never let 'em see you cry

Go and fix your make up, well it’s just a break up  
Run and hide your crazy and start actin’ like a lady  
'Cause I raised you better, gotta keep it together  
Even when you fall apart  
But this ain’t my mama’s broken heart

“Enough is enough, Hermione,” Harry fairly shouted as he watched Hermione tear through yet another drawer filled with Ron’s clothing.  
“Is it? You see, this is happening TO ME, Harry, and I think it’s MY decision on when enough is enough and right now it’s not enough!” With unmitigated rage Hermione sliced through article after article of clothing with a pair of kitchen shears. A large pile of fabric confetti continued to grow at her feet.  
“Why not just cast a spell and be done with it?” Harry asked, exasperated and exhausted after a full day of trying to control a situation that just didn’t seem controllable. Hermione stopped and so did Harry’s heart. He loved her, more than just about anything outside of his wife and son, but when she was angry Hermione became the most terrifying thing that Harry had ever seen.  
“Because that would be too easy, Harry,” she said with an eerie softness. “I don’t want this to be easy. You see, yesterday, when I woke up I was in an amazing mood. I went to work, finished what I needed to do early because I wanted to get home to surprise my fiancé with a nice dinner and a relaxing evening—because he deserved it after working so hard the last few months.” She smiled, but it wasn’t a real smile, it was an I’m really trying to be nice here but I’m all out of nice and trying not to kill you smile. “You can imagine my surprise when I arrived at our flat and found said fiancé bollocks deep inside another witch one month before our wedding!”  
“Ok, Hermione…I get it, Ron screwed up, but you need to calm down….”  
“DON’T TELL ME TO CALM DOWN, HARRY POTTER!” Hermione screamed as she returned to slicing through Ron’s clothing. Harry looked over at his wife who was sitting a chair watching the scene unfold.  
“Ginny, a little help?” he pleaded.  
“I’m on her side,” Ginny shrugged.  
“Hermione, please listen to reason! You already sent him to the hospital with that stinger hex to his bollocks and Pansy had to run down the street with no clothes and no wand! I would say that was enough!” Harry said.  
“Oh no. It is most certainly NOT enough!” she screamed as she jerked the last of Ron’s clothing from the drawer and proceeded to add it to the pile at her feet. “You see, Harry, my fiancé CHEATED on me in my own home! He CHEATED ON ME!”  
“Yes, he did, and he’s a first-class arse for it, but what are people going to think? You are Hermione Granger for god’s sake! People watch every move you make!”  
“Is that what this is about? You’re afraid of what people are going to say?” The incredulous look on her face was heartbreaking. In that moment he realized that he had now wounded Hermione just as deeply as Ron had because she felt that he didn’t care about her feelings.  
“You’re a public figure! You can’t just…” Harry wished that his mouth would just close but he couldn’t seem to stop the verbal diarrhea that poured forth every time his lips parted.  
“I can’t what? Get a little upset that I caught my soon to be husband screwing a whore? Fuck them and fuck you, Harry!” Hermione threw the scissors violently into the pile of rags. She let her head fall back and she screamed into the sky. “Damn you!”  
“Let’s go out,” Ginny suddenly piped in. She stood and moved to the wardrobe that housed Hermione’s clothing. “Let’s see…” she muttered as she sifted through the garments. “Oh…this will do!”  
Ginny held up a short bandage style dress in a bright red shade.  
“That was for a fancy-dress party, Angels and Demons, I was the devil,” Hermione said as she stared at the dress. “I looked like a slag in it!”  
“Perfect,” Ginny smiled as she returned to the closet. “Now you just need a solid pair of CFM heels and we are set!”  
“What are CFM heels?” Harry asked. He was confused by the sudden shift in topic, but relieved to see that Hermione appeared to be calmer as she stared at the dress now lying across the end of the bed.  
“Come fuck me heels,” Hermione said quietly. “You know what, you’re right, Ginny. I need to go out and I need to get pissed. And maybe I need to relieve some stress myself.” She echoed Ron’s reasoning for his infidelity.  
“I don’t think getting pissed and shagging some random man is going to make you feel better, Hermione!” Harry looked at his wife who reappeared from the wardrobe with a pair of strappy black heels dangling from her fingertips. “I can’t believe you are encouraging her!”  
“My brother is lying, cheating, pig who deserves a lot more than a stinging hex to his bollocks!” Ginny said, eyes blazing. “Go get James from my mother and take him home. I am going to go out with Hermione for a little girl time.”  
“But, Ginny….”  
“Harry, your lack of sympathy for your best friend is appalling. I suggest that if you don’t want to join my brother at St. Mungo’s with a similar injury you make your way to my parent’s house, retrieve our son, and go home.”  
Harry looked at his wife and could see that she meant business. Obviously he was missing something but realized that the two enraged witches were not going to help him understand.  
“Just…don’t do anything that you may regret, Hermione,” Harry said, resigned to the fact that no one was going to listen to him. He leaned towards his wife for a kiss, but her arched brow let him know that this wasn’t the time.  
“I regret so many things already, Harry, what’s one more?” For the first time in the whirlwind of a day, Hermione sounded sad. Just as he was about to leave he heard her add, “Besides, you know what they say. The best way to get over a wizard is to get under another.”

The pub was loud; the cacophony of music, voices and general noise was exactly what Hermione needed to drown out the voices in her head.  
The angry voice that wanted to do nothing but scream, swear and shout to the heavens that Ron Weasley was a toad.  
The voice of betrayal that could do nothing but question how could he do this to me?  
The voice of sorrow that said she could never trust someone like that again.  
The voice of anxiety that said she deserved it, clearly she wasn’t woman enough else he wouldn’t have cheated.  
Thankfully tequila had done a fair job of numbing her emotions, but she wasn’t totally pissed, just  
She still couldn’t believe she was here. She couldn’t believe that Ron had actually cheated on her. After everything that they had been through together!  
“I knew he was changing, I mean…once he got that promotion he started acting…” Hermione hiccupped and shook her head.  
“Like an arse?” Ginny offered as she sipped on her drink. “You know this has nothing to do with YOU, right?”  
“But maybe…” Hermione began to give in to the anxiety in her head.  
“No, there is no maybe. This was ALL about Ronald. If there were issues in the relationship it was on HIM to tell you. If his feelings were changing it was on HIM to tell you. You DON’T CHEAT on your partner, ever. You end it before you lay down with someone else.” Ginny reached for one of the shots that were lined up in front of them and threw it back before slamming the empty glass on the bar top.  
“But Pansy?” Hermione put her forehead on the bar and groaned before sitting up again. “Of all the people…”  
“Pansy Parkinson’s vagina should have a ‘come one come all’ sign on it. She’s ridden more broomsticks than the entire British Quidditch League,” Ginny scoffed.  
“While I have only been with Ron,” Hermione frowned and rolled her shoulders. “But that ends tonight!”  
“Are you serious?” Ginny asked, her brow arched in amusement. “I thought you just wanted to get pissed, I didn’t think you were seriously looking for a hook-up.”  
“Oh, I’m serious,” Hermione said as she finished off her drink and turned around in her chair. She tossed her hair back over her shoulders and straightened her back. She glanced down at her cleavage, greatly enhanced by the dress, and nodded. “The girls look good and this dress makes me look like I have more of a bum than I actually do. I didn’t go to all this trouble for nothing!”  
“I’m not here to judge! Just be careful, men are jerks,” Ginny said. She loved her brother, but he had done her friend dirty. Hermione wasn’t a slag, she was smart, sophisticated and funny and her brother didn’t deserve her. She just hoped that whatever Hermione did tonight, she would regret in the morning.  
Hermione scanned the crowd, taking in the variety of men in the pub. Many were already there with women, so that ruled them out. She wouldn’t soothe her broken heart by breaking someone else’s!  
“He’ll do,” Hermione said, her lips lifting into a smile. Ginny followed her gaze and then choked on her drink.  
“Malfoy?!” Ginny shouted his name loudly enough for him to hear, so he turned around and stared at them curiously. “You can’t be serious?”  
“Oh, I am,” Hermione said as she slipped off the barstool. “Serious as a heart attack.”  
Hermione maintained eye contact as she crossed the floor.  
Draco looked good with a bit of age on him. He looked a bit like his father; evil though he was, Lucius always looked pretty good.  
Draco was tall, she had forgotten just how tall as she neared him. His blond hair was longer than when they were kids, just above his shoulders, straight and smooth. Hermione imagined it would feel like corn-silk sliding through her fingers.  
He had a vintage vibe going in his muggle clothes. Loose, belted black linen trousers, shiny black and white spectators, and a black silk short sleeved button down with two thick white stripes down the front. He had his hands in his pockets, a thick silver watch encircled his wrist above the black cloth.  
He looked like just the kind of trouble Hermione was looking for.  
“Hello, Draco,” she said softly when she finally reached him. His eyes drifted over her for a moment, then back up.  
“Granger,” he said, smirking. “I’m a bit surprised to see you here tonight.”  
“Why is that?” she asked.  
“Rumor has it that your fiancé is currently in the hospital and that Parkinson was seen running naked from your flat,” he said.  
“My EX fiancé is not my problem anymore,” she said firmly. “And Parkinson, well, that puckered face of hers looks like a prolapsed rectum, so let’s not talk about her.”  
“Alright, what would you like to talk about?”  
“Do we have to talk at all?” she asked suggestively.  
“Are you pissed?” he asked, shocked by her boldness.  
“Only the slightest bit buzzed,” she answered. “Would you like to go somewhere?”  
Draco stared at her for a moment. He had been watching her off and on for years, more than a little curious about that beautiful mind of hers. He wanted to bury his fingers in that wild hair of hers, kiss the pillowy softness of her lips. He wanted to hold her close to him, lay her down in his bed and make her his. And there she stood, offering it to him.  
“I would…but I don’t take inebriated women to bed,” he said softly as he reached out to lightly touch her arm.  
“I’m not inebriated, and it doesn’t have to be a bed,” she replied saucily. Draco smiled and chuckled at her retort.  
“You aren’t completely sober,” he said. “But, if you would like to go somewhere to sober up, we can talk.”  
“Just talk?” she asked, a disappointed pout on her face.  
“Until you are sober, yes. Once I’m comfortable that the alcohol no longer influences you we can see what happens.”  
“I didn’t peg you for a gentleman,” she said.  
“I never said that I was, I just don’t want there to be any questions of consent.”  
“Alright, let’s go,” she said as she reached for his hand and began dragging him through the crowd. Draco was clearly surprised, but really, he shouldn’t have been. Hermione was known for calling one’s bluff.  
She stopped briefly in front of Ginny and grabbed her jacket from her friend.  
“I’m leaving, mission accomplished,” Hermione said with a wink. Ginny’s brow furrowed a bit as she looked at Draco with concern.  
“No need to flash your ginger death stare my way, Weasley…er Potter. I have no intentions of harming her in any way,” he said. He leaned in and more softly said, “I’m going to get some coffee and some food into her and have a chat. I promise you, I don’t take advantage of intoxicated women.”  
“You’d better look after her, Draco,” Ginny said softly, earnestly. She held no grudges and had no reason to believe that he did either. “She’s far more fragile than she’s letting on.”  
Draco nodded, and winked, “Don’t worry, I shall return her with all of her pieces intact.”  
Satisfied that his intentions were clear, Draco gave in to the insistent tugging on his hand and let Hermione lead him through the doors of the pub and into the streets of Godric’s Hollow.  
The cool evening air washed over Hermione, sobering her up further as she breathed deeply.  
“Change your mind?” Draco asked as he watched her. She turned and smiled at him over her shoulder.  
“You seem to still be laboring under the notion that I am intoxicated, Malfoy,” she smirked. “I already told you, I am as sober as a church mouse.”  
“A church mouse who fell into the vicar’s wine!” Draco chuckled. “Wherever shall we go?”  
“I don’t want to go to my flat,” she said, her lips twisted thoughtfully. She was afraid that Ron may show up and she didn’t want to see him or talk to him. Not now. Maybe not ever. “How about your place?”  
“I have an idea, do you trust me?” he asked, holding out his hand. Hermione looked at it briefly before sliding her hand into his.  
“I trust you, OH!” she cried out as Draco pulled her to him and in a flash she found herself slipping through the air in his arms. With a soft cracking sound she found herself once more on solid ground, her hands clutching the front of his silk shirt.  
“Careful now, that’s silk,” he said as he loosened her fingers from the fabric.  
“I wasn’t expecting that!” she gasped as she shook her head. She stumbled against him as the ground beneath her feet rocked. “Where are we?”  
She looked down and realized that the ground wasn’t moving, it was the dock beneath her feet. The salty sea air filled her nostrils as she began to get her bearings. She could hear the waves crashing nearby, the soft ringing of a buoy bell, and the barking of seals. She turned and stared out over the water. The moon was reflected perfectly on the inky surface.  
“Breathtaking, isn’t it?” he asked from behind her. She startled slightly, for a moment she had forgotten she wasn’t alone. Staring at the beauty before her caused a lump to form in her throat. Tears that she had been stifling threatened. There was so much going on inside her, so many emotions fighting to be felt. It was overwhelming. She didn’t want to feel any of them. What she wanted was oblivion, to be so lost in pleasure that there was no room for anything else.  
“What are we doing here?” she asked, swallowing back the emotion.  
“Right over there,” he said pointing to the vessel docked at the end of the boat ramp. “Lucius’s Luck.”  
“Your father named his boat after himself?” she asked, her brow furrowed. “Shouldn’t he have named it after his wife?”  
“No one loves my father more than he does,” Draco laughed. “I don’t think he’s ever stepped foot on it, to be honest. My father doesn’t like what the sea air does to his hair.”  
“Are we going to take a ride?” she asked. The floating doc continued to rock beneath her feet so Hermione leaned over to unbuckle the straps on her shoes, but the movement of the wood platform nearly caused her to tumble.  
“Allow me.” To her surprise Draco squat down before her. “Put your hands on my shoulders,” he commanded before reaching for her ankle. With deft fingers he unbuckled the strap and carefully slid the shoe from her foot, setting it aside before doing the same to the other. “Better?” he asked, looking up at her.  
She had to catch her breath. The sight of him, kneeling before her, those big silver blue eyes shining in the moonlight; it was almost too much.  
Almost.  
“Better,” she whispered. Draco gathered her shoes in one hand and stood, sliding his other arm around her waist.  
“Shall we?”  
He held her close to his side as they followed the floating dock to the yacht moored at the end. Hermione struggled a bit to keep her balance, leaning more fully against him.  
“I thought docks were stationary?” she fussed. It was hard to be alluring and sexy when one couldn’t stay on their feet!  
“The pier is stationary, but these floating docks are a bit better suited to certain areas. A stationary dock might not fair well in stormy weather,” he said. “Once we are on board you won’t feel the motion quite so much.”  
“You seem to be doing just fine,” she noted.  
“I spend most of my time here,” he said.  
“You live on this boat?”  
“It’s not a boat,” he said as he reached into his pocket for his wand. A ramp unfolded in front of them leading onto the boat’s ample lower deck. “THIS is a yacht.”  
“Semantics,” she muttered as she hesitantly stepped onto the ramp. Holding onto the rails she slowly made her way up and onto the yacht with Draco following close behind.  
“Have a seat on the bow, I’m going to go speak with the captain,” Draco said, gesturing towards the front of the boat. He disappeared up a spiral staircase to the upper-deck and Hermione found herself alone.  
“This is what I was trying to avoid,” she muttered as she walked towards the bow and looked over the edge. She could see the black water, shinning in the light as it slapped against the sides of the yacht. She began humming the theme song to Titanic, laughing at the sad turn her thoughts were taking.  
This was supposed to be an adventure, a sexual journey, a discovery…a restart. She was supposed to be naked, sweaty, mindless with unfettered passion right now. Not standing alone on the bow of a ship with the world’s saddest song playing in her head.  
“Thinking of jumping?” Draco asked from behind her. Hermione gasped and turned around quickly, her wand already in her hand. “Don’t hex!” he laughed, holding his hands up in front of him.  
“Do you like sneaking up on me?” she asked, tucking her wand back inside her jacket.  
“I didn’t realize you would be so deep in thought,” he said. “I spoke with the captain, we’re going to go for a little pleasure cruise for the evening.” He took her hand and pulled her to a seating area that offered a lovely view of the moon and the dark horizon. She settled onto a curved sofa with lush cushions and a ton of pillows and Draco sat beside her.  
“Are you kidnapping me? Are you going to sell me?” she asked, half joking. She suddenly realized that she had gotten onto a strange boat with a man she barley knew and what she DID know didn’t exactly recommend him.  
“You are free to leave whenever you like,” he said as he leaned back and draped his arm along the back of the sofa. “Just say the word and Rueben will turn the yacht around.”  
Hermione looked at him, really looked at him for a few moments, and then she smiled.  
“Not just yet,” she said. Their attention was briefly redirected to a small serving elf who appeared with a tray of food and tea, disappearing as quickly as he appeared.  
“Have some tea and let’s talk,” he said as he passed her a steaming cup.  
“Are you serious? You brought me here to talk?” She took the cup, staring at him incredulously over the rim.  
“I told you, I don’t play with intoxicated women and I meant it.”  
“I’m not drunk, Draco,” she said honestly.  
“You walked up to me in a pub and propositioned me, clearly you aren’t in your right mind.”  
The brief flash of sadness that crossed his eyes instantly made Hermione feel guilty.  
“Then why did you bring me here?” she asked as she sipped the tea.  
“Because I know you,” Draco said simply. “I have known you for most of our lives and I could see you were determined to go home with a wizard tonight. And because I know you, I know that you would regret it for the rest of your days.” He smiled softly and Hermione felt her stomach flip just a little. She had seen that smile before, when they were kids and he thought no one was watching, when he would read a book or see something from a classroom window that brought him joy. It was a real smile, not the smug Malfoy smile that he put on for the masses. “Surprised?”  
“Soooo….we aren’t going to…”  
“I don’t know,” he said, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly. “I do want you, Granger. But I want you to want me too, more than you want to get revenge.”  
“Who said I wanted to get revenge?” she asked. “Maybe I just wanted something for ME for a change!”  
“How many men have you shagged?” Hermione flushed and looked away. “That’s what I thought. Random hookups aren’t your thing, Granger. I wouldn’t want to see your reputation tarnished because you’ve had one too many.”  
“Oh, bugger my reputation!” she shouted in exasperation. “I’m not intoxicated, I was barely tipsy! What I AM is sick and tired of everyone trying to tell me who I am and how I should be feeling! No one knows how I feel because this is happening to ME! I don’t care what people think!”  
“You will, when the dust settles, and you don’t have so many emotions and so much adrenaline pumping through you. You will care then, trust me.” He reached out and playfully tugged at one of her curls. “Trust me on this, I have a bit of experience in the regret department.”  
“Why should it matter to anyone if I make a spectacle of myself? Why does it matter?” she asked as she closed her eyes and shook her head. “Why am I held to a different standard than any other woman?”  
“Maybe ask yourself why you feel the need to make a spectacle of yourself?” Draco asked. Hermione shot him a side-eye glance that said he hit a little too close and she wasn’t too happy with his voice of logic. “I get it, I do. But a meaningless shag isn’t going to heal your broken heart.”  
An undecipherable expression crossed Hermione’s face and she turned her head away from him, her gaze fixated on the water. Draco wasn’t sure what to make of it, so he probed.  
“Granger?”  
“I’m angry,” she said, still facing away from him. He reached out and laid his hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently.  
“Of course you are,” he said, “It’s natural to be angry.”  
“No…I’m not…” she sighed and turned to face him, “my heart isn’t broken. I’m angry because I’m not sad that its over. I’m angry because I’m not more hurt. I’m angry because he embarrassed me, not because he broke my heart.”  
As her words sunk in, Draco began to see a very different picture.  
“Oh,” was all he managed as he stared at her. Her hair was a bit wind-tossed and her cheeks were flushed. In her eyes was the fire that had always pressed his buttons.  
“Harry thinks I’m emotionally devastated. He is afraid that I will do something stupid out of loss and depression and I don’t have the heart to tell him that my heart is relieved,” with a sigh she slumped against the back of the sofa as if all of the stress and strain within her was released.  
“Then why go hunting for a shag?” he asked. “If not revenge, what are you after?”  
“Ever heard the phrase that the best way to get over a man is to get under a new one? I just wanted to forget for a while. I know that the fallout from this is going to be massive and I want to cry and scream with all that is running through my head right now! So many people will be affected and yes, my reputation will suffer and yes, part of me wants to hurt Ronald far deeper than a stinging hex to his balls. But right now…right now I just want to forget. I want to be lost in something else, I want to really feel rather than try to force myself to feel something I don’t.”  
“Bloody hell, Granger,” he muttered, “How in the world do you function with so much going on inside that head of yours ALL THE TIME? Do you ever just be?”  
“No.” Her answer was so simple and succinct and so brutally honest. “That’s what hurts the most. I can never just be and I never just let go and…and…feel!” She leaned forward and set her cup on the table in front of them before looking back over her shoulder sadly. “I spent my early years working hard to make my parents proud of me. They tried so hard to have a family and I was the only pregnancy that made it to term, they made it clear that their dreams of raising a successful family rested on me. Then in school I had to take care of the boys, make sure they stayed on the right path, be there for Harry so that the darkness didn’t take him over. And then after…I had to be strong, I had to help navigate the road through the grief, be the poster child for rebuilding, be the example of what a strong witch is. And all the while I had to swallow my own pain, my own grief, my own fear and my own longing and desires!”  
“I had no idea,” Draco replied softly.  
“No one did,” she said, “And that’s my fault because I let it happen. And now, everyone is seeing a glimpse of me and they are so afraid that it’s going to mar that perfect, shiny image that they have of me that no one wants to let me just be.”  
“What exactly were you hoping to gain…once you were under me?” he asked with a wink.  
“Freedom. Power. Pleasure.”  
“And why did you pick me?” he asked. “That pub was filled with wizards that have never hexed, or threatened you.”  
“That’s true,” she said as she scooted back on the sofa and curled her legs beneath her. “I suppose you were right, random hookups aren’t my thing. I know you. I’ve always known you and while you were an unbearable little prat you never hurt me.”  
“Turns out that I don’t have it in me to harm another,” he said, “much to everyone’s disappointment.”  
“I’m not disappointed,” she said softly. “Did you mean it when you said that you want me?”  
“I don’t lie.”  
“Kiss me?” she asked.  
“You first,” he countered. He watched her shift a bit in her seat as she stared at him. She was pondering his response as she pulled her lower lip between her teeth.  
“I may not be very good at it...I’ve only kissed Ronald. I kissed Harry once…and Victor Krum…”  
“For fuck’s sake, Granger, don’t think it to death! Just do it, put your lips against mine and fucking kiss me!”  
And she did. Hermione leaned forward and pressed her lips to his, a bit too rough at first due to his goading, but then, as she breathed him in her lips softened. For a few heated moments they engaged in a shy dance of mouth to mouth. Their lips came together, parted slightly and came together again. Testing, tasting, learning.  
Drawn to the heat that radiated from him, Hermione scooted closer to him, seeking more contact. Draco obliged, guiding her to lie across his lap as their lips opened and their tongues touched for the first time.  
The jolt he felt at this first, deep tasting was like touching your tongue to the prongs of a battery. It was unfamiliar, unique, the tightening of his belly was both exciting and slightly uncomfortable. Want like he had never known before filled him as he tasted deeper, pulled her closer.  
And she reciprocated with a fervor that was so sweet, so innocent despite her age and experience. She opened for him, gave to him, trusted him which aroused him even more than the taste of her. Eventually he had to pull his lips from hers. It went against everything inside him, but they needed oxygen and he needed more of her.  
“Not yet,” she whimpered as she tried to pull his head back to her.  
“We need to breathe, Granger,” he chuckled hoarsely before kissing the tip of her nose. “You nearly burned me alive.”  
“I’m not usually like this…”  
“Don’t make excuses or apologize, let it burn,” he whispered before kissing her again, quickly yet thoroughly. “I shouldn’t be doing this, you were drinking.”  
“Hours ago, don’t leave me like this, Draco, I need you.”  
He looked deeply into her eyes, searching for any sign that she may not mean what she said. He saw nothing but his own reflection. Maybe he was making a mistake….maybe she would regret it come morning…but damn it he wanted her!  
“I’m not going anywhere,” he growled as he moved her slightly to push her jacket off her shoulders.  
“My wand, its quicker…”  
“No, I want to undress you myself. I want to unwrap you like the gift you are,” he whispered against her ear as his fingertips feathered across her newly bared shoulders. When he reached the tab of her zipper he slid it down slowly. She was so sensitized that she felt the soft click of every tooth parting against her spine. As the dress loosened its hold on her she felt the goosebumps prickle her skin.  
In just a few seconds she was going to be naked.  
Naked with Draco Malfoy.  
On a boat.  
“Your staff….?” she asked as the zipper reached its end just above her bottom.  
“The crew is very small, just a few elves who know their place and Rueben, who is busy maneuvering the yacht and has no care for what we are doing,” he reassured her. He carefully slid from beneath her, guiding her to lie on her back on the sofa as he knelt on the deck beside it.  
Slowly, he began to pull her dress down her body. He devoured every inch of skin that he exposed with his eyes, drinking her in. She was lovely, with her creamy white skin flushed with arousal. There was a light sprinkling of freckles atop her shoulders, along her nose and cheeks, along the tops of her breasts above the neckline. He wanted to kiss each one and discover new ones all across her body.  
When her nipples popped free of the dress she gasped. The cool night air perked the caramel colored tips right up for Draco’s feasting eyes, and his lips as he leaned forward and captured one in the heat of his mouth.  
“Draco!” she cried his name as the tip of his tongue flicked against the sensitive nub. Her hands came up to clutch his hair, holding him tighter against her as she arched her back in a plea for more.  
He didn’t disappoint. He licked, sucked and nibbled at her breast until she was wriggling and whimpering beneath his mouth. And when she seemed to be losing all control he switched to the other one and started all over.  
“My gods!” she cried, reaching for the buttons on his shirt. “Please!”  
“No rush, Granger,” he replied, his lips still against her breast. He lifted his head, reluctant to release his treat but he still had a witch to finish undressing. He tugged the dress further down, releasing her arms and revealing the soft skin of her belly; and more of the freckles that he found so charming.  
A little bit more and he could see the small triangle of soft curls at the apex of her thighs.  
“No knickers! Naughty witch,” he said soft and low. He blew gently on her skin and watched the muscles in her stomach clench. “Up.”  
Hermione obeyed, lifting her hips so that he could pull the dress over her hips and thighs and then down and off completely. She didn’t see where he tossed it, but it really didn’t matter, all that she cared about was how he was making her feel.  
Cherished.  
Worshipped.  
And so fucking aroused that she feared she was going to melt into a puddle right there on the deck of his gigantic boat!  
“You are so incredible,” he said almost to himself. He trailed his fingertips back up her body, from the top of her foot along her ankle, up her shins to her knees and then along the tops of her thighs. “I just want to devour all of you and I can’t figure out where to start.”  
Draco bent his head and kissed her right between her breasts, where her heart fluttered so uncontrollably beneath her ribs. He let his lips slide along the smooth skin, lower to the soft curve of her stomach. He couldn’t resist the little cluster of freckles near her navel, tracing them lightly with his tongue.  
Unable to pull his mouth from her, he shifted, urging her to pull her thigh up and open so that he could slide between them. He licked along the sensitive line just above her lightly furred mons while guiding her with his hands so that her leg was draped over his shoulder.  
“Draco…wait…” she shifted nervously, intimidated by such an intimate act. But he wasn’t listening.  
With a touch as soft as a butterflies wings, he let his fingertips slide along the seam of her nether lips. It was electrifying, as if he were using magic and sending shocks skittering across her skin and into her womb. It was too much and yet not enough.  
He parted the swollen folds gently, the mere sensation of the skin parting sent ripples of pleasure through her. He could see the glistening pink flesh clearly in the moonlight, like a beacon begging him to come closer, to feel her, to smell her, to taste her.  
And then he did. He dragged his tongue across the dewy surface of her sex and reveled in the taste of her. Slightly salty but heady. She filled his senses like a drug and he was instantly addicted. Nothing was going to come between him and the next taste of her.  
“Delicious,” he growled against her, wrapping his arms around her thighs to hold her still as he buried his face between them and set out to have his fill.  
Has anything ever felt this good? Hermione couldn’t breathe, she wanted to pull away from him just as much as she wanted to lift her hips and press into him. It was overwhelming, his mouth was everywhere. There was nothing secret or sacred as he literally devoured her. He licked and sucked at her, his tongue digging into her opening, probing, savoring, tormenting, and worshipping at the fount of her very core.  
And then, as if he just knew what she needed he zeroed in on that little pearl of desire. Her clit was swollen, firm and greedy for attention. His tongue circled, lapped, flicked at the sensitive nubbin relentlessly.  
He pushed her higher, knowing that she was close, determined that when she finally reached the summit he was going to taste it. She stiffened, and her sex began to pulse against his tongue. Her hoarse cry of surrender rang through the night as she convulsed beneath his touch. He didn’t pull away, instead he lightened his touch, continuing the stimulation until she shuddered and lightly nudged him away.  
“That was perfect,” he muttered as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand/  
“You are wicked,” she murmured, watching him slowly rise to stand over her. He smiled as he toed off his shoes then bent to remove his socks.  
“You are delicious,” he replied. With his eyes locked on hers he began to unbutton his shirt, letting the silk fabric slide off of his shoulders to the floor.  
“You are wild,” she said, licking her lips as he revealed his lean, muscled body to her. He looked like a Greek statue standing there, his pale skin glowing in the light.  
“You are wanton, I see how you are looking at me, I know what you need,” he said as he slowly unbuckled his belt and loosened his trousers. “Wicked, wanton and wild…sounds absolutely perfect to me,” he said as he pushed his trousers and boxers off in one movement, kicking them aside so that he stood there, in all his naked glory.  
“My word,” she declared as she drank in the sight of him. He had the body of a swimmer, lean with broad shoulders and slim hips. His chest and abdomen were well defined with two lines cut through the muscle on either side directing her gaze straight to his pelvis. His skin was smooth aside from a thin line of snowy white hair that started just below his navel, darkening slightly as it spread to a neatly trimmed nest of curls from which sprung a ruddy column of flesh that could only be described as…art.  
His erection was long, pink and curved slightly upward, his testicles were smooth and drawn tightly up against his body. As she watched he wrapped his hand around his shaft and stroked slowly, sliding his foreskin over the tip and then back to reveal the purplish head glistening with the fluid lowly leaking from the slit.  
Hermione pressed her hand to her belly in a vain attempt to control the fluttering inside her. She had just had the most intense orgasm of her life, how in the bloody hell was she ready for more?!  
“You like what you see?” he asked, still stroking his eager cock.  
“Oh yes, you are beautiful,” she said, mesmerized by the sight of him pleasuring himself in front of her. She wanted all of him. She wanted to taste him just as diligently as he had her, and she wanted to be filled with him. She felt suddenly empty, itching for something to fill her, to scratch the itch that was building with every long stroke of his fingers along his shaft.  
“One day I’m going to fuck that pretty mouth of yours, Granger,” he said roughly as he climbed over her, kneeling on the sofa between her splayed thighs, “But I don’t have the patience for it tonight.”  
He slid his hands beneath her thighs and pushed her knees towards her chest. He shifted, his knees right against her bottom. He used his hand to guide the head of his cock to the wet slit of her sex. He rubbed the head back and forth against her, lubricating the tip and savoring the slippery response. With his thumb he pressed down, nudging his tip into her opening.  
With her legs draped over his arms he pushed forward, sliding slowly into her. She reached for him, her nails scratching along his chest and abdomen as he pulled almost completely out, then slid into her again. She was so wet, so snug. She pulsed around him, her slippery sheathe greedily sucking at him, begging for more as he worked to establish a rhythm that would pleasure them both.  
She couldn’t breathe. She could only stare at him, his eyes closed, his head back, his lips parted as he moved inside her. She could see the pleasure on his face, she could feel it in the steady thrust of his cock inside her. She was mesmerized, completely enthralled by the beautiful man above her. She felt nothing but him and the intense sensation that he wrought within her. There was no room for anything but him.  
“Hold on to me,” he panted, guiding her legs around his waist as he leaned forward and braced himself above her. She didn’t think it was possible to take him any deeper, but the thrust and roll of his hips said otherwise as he pushed further. He was marking her as his, as deeply as he could. “I’m going to come,” he whispered, “Slide your hand between us, come with me.”  
Hermione obeyed, sliding her hand into the narrow space between them until her fingers brushed the turgid peak of her clit. She stroked gently at first, sliding her fingers lower to feel the slippery length of him sliding in and out of her body. He moaned and thrust harder, groaning hurry as his climax neared. As aroused as she was it didn’t take much as she stroked her clit, circling and pressing until she felt her sex begin to spasm around him.  
He must have felt it too, because he began to thrust hard and deep. With a roar of completion, he pushed into her hard, so deep that it was almost painful, and spilled inside her. He trembled, still braced above her, holding himself still inside her, determined that every bit was spent within her.  
It was only when he began to soften that he laid down upon her, careful of his weight, and pressed his lips to hers.  
“Bloody brilliant,” he said somewhat breathlessly. “YOU were worth the wait.”  
“You’ve been waiting for me?” Hermione asked, her hands stroking his sweaty back.  
“All my life,” he said softly. He kissed her again, then slipped out of her carefully and rolled to the side. With his back against the sofa he pulled Hermione close to him. He adjusted some pillows beneath their heads and a then reached for a blanket to tuck around them. “Look,” he said, gesturing with his chin towards the horizon where the faint glow of dawn was beginning to rise.  
“Oh wow, Draco. It’s beautiful,” she said softly. “I don’t know what to say…”  
“Why do we have to say anything?” he asked, holding her tight. “Do you regret it already?”  
“No,” Hermione whispered. “I don’t regret a thing…except that our night together is nearly over.”  
“It doesn’t have to be,” Draco said.  
“Draco, I just ended an engagement…I can’t just…”  
“Stop! I’m not suggesting we get married, or even go steady,” he chuckled. “But we CAN enjoy each other’s company for a bit, can’t we?”  
“I have to cancel a wedding, deal with the press, I have work, I need to get ahead of this…” Draco grasped her chin and turned her head slightly so that he could look into her eyes.  
“I can hire someone to handle the cancelations and issue a press release on your behalf. You have time off accumulated, send an owl to Shacklebolt, he will understand. And you don’t need to get ahead of anything. How others deal with the news is NOT your responsibility, Love. Come with me, leave it all behind and just BE.”  
“You want me to just sail away with you?” she asked incredulously.  
“Yes.”  
“But…don’t you have responsibilities? A job? Your family?” she asked.  
“Ah, you see, my Daddy’s rich and I’m pretty…so….” he laughed when Hermione’s elbow connected with his stomach.  
“Prat,” she muttered. “Can we really just sail away on this boat?”  
“It’s a yacht,” he corrected. “And yes, we can. Trust me, Hermione, you won’t regret it.”

Six weeks later…..

Hermione was laughing as she fumbled with the keys to her flat. Draco was playfully nibbling on her ear, distracting her from the task at hand. Finally the key turned and they flung the door open. The laughter stopped immediately when they came face to face with Harry and Ginny Potter.  
“Oh, hi!” Hermione said, smiling brightly. She knew that Harry was going to be bent out of shape about her taking off like she did. Ginny, however, had a sly smile on her face that made Hermione’s smile grow.  
“Finally!” Harry shouted, startling her. “Do you have ANY idea how worried I have been?”  
“I sent you an owl, Harry, you knew where I was,” Hermione shook her head and closed the door, tossing her keys onto the table. “Is he moved out?”  
“That’s all you have to say? You’ve been gone for two months…”  
“Six weeks, actually,” Draco corrected.  
“Fine, you’ve been gone for six weeks with Draco Malfoy on a boat to wherever….”  
“It’s a yacht! My god!” Draco threw his hands up in exasperation.  
“Whatever! All you have to say about it is “Did he move out?”” Harry wanted an explanation, but Hermione wasn’t really feeling inclined to give him one.  
“Pretty much,” she said as she walked to the bedroom and looked around. All signs of Ron were now gone. She walked back into the living room and flopped onto her sofa next to Draco.  
“Really?” Harry looked at her and realized that he barely recognized her. Her hair was shorter, her face a bit rounder as if she had gained a pound or two. Her cheeks were rosy beneath the glow of her tan and she hadn’t stopped smiling since she arrived.  
It was then that it hit him.  
Hermione was happy.  
“Really, Harry. Six weeks ago I was a mess. I was confused, scared, lonely, angry and so riddled with anxiety about how people were going to feel and react and how disappointed they were going to be….but now…” she sighed and looked over at Draco. “I spent six weeks with Draco sailing all over on his boat…”  
“Bloody hell, IT’S A YACHT!”  
“We saw beautiful places, we explored, we danced, we ate amazing food and drank the best wines. We talked and we made love and we just…were,” Hermione smiled and she reached for Draco’s hand. “Draco helped me find myself, Harry. I’m happy.”

And she was….


End file.
